My Singularity
by Merkmon
Summary: /AU, Kids-centric/ When Sam Dorian moves to the city, he never expects to get mixed up with a killer, catching the attention of Detective Jack Cox in the process. As more strange things happen to Sam, each one brings him closer to his unsettling truth...
1. My First Encounter

_**So, this is where things begin. This actually started out as an original idea, but somehow the characters of Scrubs got pulled into it. One thing I really liked about the show is how the crappy stuff in their lives was so close to the good things, if that makes any sense. They all seem so...functional, despite being so dysfunctional. I decided to make them a little less functional in this, though it'll be another chapter or two before any major characters from the show are introduced. This deals mostly with the offspring, all grown up. Hope you can stand it! Un-beta'd for now.  
**_

_**/**italics=thinking and other mind-related things**/**_

_

* * *

Not quite sinking, but not quite floating. Hovering just above the bottom. Doesn't feel very good, but not that bad either. Can't feel the water, but are still able to float. Looking around and seeing endless abyss beyond a membrane that looks to be made of stone. Looks towards the sky and sees something floating on the surface. Something that is open. Something that is spread eagle. Something that belongs to someone._

_A hand lightly touches the somethings'-someones' face._

-----

"I'm telling ya rookie, it's not The Samaritan's MO," Detective Fran Wheeler informs her junior partner, Detective Jack Cox, as they drive back to the station. They had just responded to an assault, the caller sounding very much like that of The Samaritan, a newly emerged serial killer. The pattern had been established by Jack himself and he seemed eager to make his case. Over the past two months, several white males between the age of twenty-one and thirty had been killed. They were all drowned in various water contraptions: birdbaths, fountains, even a blow-up kiddie pool. Someone would phone it in as an assault in progress, always disguised with a voice changer. The press had eventually come up with The Samaritan, since he was helpful enough to tell the police of his murders.

"It fits! Same voice, same message-" Jack began, before Fran cut him off.

"Except no body this time." Not one of the victims before had been dead long after the call came in, but dead they were. At this particular location, they had found a fountain. The water had blood in it, but no body anywhere around. There was a wallet in the water, but it only had some cash and an old, expired ID that was definitely fake. It wasn't much to go on at all.

"We should be looking for someone who looks something like this picture," the junior detective complains.

"It's old and fake. The person who used this is obviously old enough for his own ID now, so all we know for certain is that he's white and has black hair."

"We should try-"

"When we get back, you should go home and sleep," Fran tells Jack. It was now two in the morning and neither of them were looking too great. Jack's normally springy red locks were looking distinctly deflated and Fran doubted she looked much better. It looked like he was going to argue for more action, but she just sent him a look that clearly left no room for negotiation.

Jack's mind kept spinning. He just had a feeling this was The Samaritan's work. He was certain that they had the only survivor of The Samaritan out there.

Fran could see the wheels still spinning in her partner's head. She heaved a sigh, before saying, "We'll check hospital admittance and see if anyone filed an assault fitting the time frame. But after that, we call it a night."

Jack smirked in victory and Fran sighed in resignation.

-----

As the clock flicked to 6:47, the shrill alarm blasted Sam Dorian out of his slumber with a groan. He bashed his knuckles on the alarm, wishing he had a job that didn't start so early. Once more, he wondered why he had decided to move here. As he thought this, he realized he would be thinking this regardless of where he had ended up moving to. He needed to move, even if he wasn't keen on any place in particular.

Finishing his morning routine without realizing it, Sam rakes a hand through his black hair and shakes his head before moving into the kitchen. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and eats it standing up, gazing out the window. His apartment complex, named The Winslow Complex, was pretty good; good location, affordable rent that includes utilities, and they weren't tacky-looking at all. It was also built around a really nice pool, but Sam had yet to set foot in it. Dropping his cereal bowl into the sink, he wondered why he hadn't been in the pool. It was always clean, it was hot enough out to swim, and he had a lot of free time since he moved here a month ago.

Sam starting cleaning his dishes, having left two days worth to soak in the sink. He looked back out at the pool as he did them, methodically scrubbing each dish as he let his mind wander. The pool had seemed like a good idea when he had settled on moving here, but now he realized he avoided swimming for the most part. He had always chocked it up to never being someplace long enough to find a place to go swimming when he was young. As he felt around for the silverware, he shut out thoughts about growing up. They were best left alone, less they put him in a bad mood.

Looking down, Sam counts the clean cutlery and comes up a fork short. Moving his hand all around the soapy depths, he looks down and parts the suds from the surface to find-

_-A face looking up from the water at him._

Sam slams into the wall opposite of the sink with a yelp. Rapidly blinking, he pushes the palms of his hands into his eyeballs. The image blazes to life behind his eyelids. Pulling his hands back from his face, he slowly moves back to the sink and peers into the soapy water. All that looks back are some bubbles and the fork crammed down into the drain stopper. No face.

"Damn," Sam quietly breathed out. He was completely awake now, the jolt of panic having done the trick. He pulls the fork from the sink and yanks the stopper out, quickly scrubbing tomato sauce off the fork, rinsing all the now clean dishes and stacking them on a towel to dry. He goes to his bedroom and calmly dresses, refusing to let his thudding pulse affect his movements. Grabbing his keys, he looks briefly for his wallet before finding just his bus pass and leaves his apartment.

His heart refused to slow until the bus came ten minutes later.

-----

Both leads hadn't panned out at all, and Jack had gone home and slept like Fran demanded. His dreams were dark and twisty, though he couldn't remember much beyond that. As he went about his day, the Samaritan case kept tumbling in his head. He ended up writing down everything he knew about all the victims in an attempt to develop a better idea of the Samaritan's type.

Jack already had the age group(21-30) and body type (skinny), but eventually came to the conclusion that they had all been fairly recent additions to the city. Going on the old fake ID, he was looking for a young, skinny, blue eyed and black haired man who had recently moved to their fair city. Which translated into nothing, really. The criteria wasn't narrow enough to be of any good to them.

Jack flipped open the lab results on the blood from the scene. The guy was type O-negative, which didn't help much. There hadn't even been that much blood...which meant he hadn't been injured too badly. The detective jumped to his feet and grabbed his coat and signaled to Fran from across the room. She excused herself and joined Jack at the elevator.

"I think I have a lead," he told her as he hit the button for the garage.

-----

"The killer thought he had killed this guy and left to make the call to us. He was probably just stunned and got right back up and made his way home. He couldn't have lived too far away. Since he was walking, he most likely rode the last bus as close as he could. We should go to the bus station, ask the driver if he remembers anyone close to the fake ID's description and go from there," Jack elaborated on the ride over. It seemed rather obvious to both of them now.

"He might have been coming home from work, which would mean he rides the bus almost every day," Fran added. Jack just nodded his head and drove onward.

The #17 was the closest bus running by the crime scene. They questioned all the Route 17 drivers, eventually getting from one of them where someone matching the criteria got off just this morning at 7:30.

The detectives ended up on a nicer street with a bunch of shops on it. They each went down a side of the street, seeing if someone matching the description worked there.

Jack enters Cosi, a nice-looking café type of restaurant that he actually passed on his way to the precinct every morning. Right there, manning the register, was a skinny young man with black hair. He came up to the counter and looked right at him.

He looked right back at Jack, pulling a smile onto his face. "Welcome to Cosi. What can I get for you today?" Jack let his mouth pull into a smirk, flicking his gaze to the man's name tag briefly before leaning against the display case.

"Well Sam, I need to know a few things about you," Jack said, letting his smirk slip into his professional voice. The smile drops quickly from Sam's face as he leans away slightly.

Sam pushes down the urge to spit an insult at the man, not feeling very tolerant today. He huffed angrily out his nose before he spoke again. "Let's stick to what we serve. Today's soup is-"

"I need to ask you about what happened last night," Jack interrupted Sam, flashing his badge as he spoke.

Feeling a headache coming on, Sam quickly answered, "I worked late, got out after midnight, made the last bus, walked to my apartment and went to sleep." Jack frowned, Sam feeling a bit of satisfaction at banishing that smirk. "Anything else?"

Jack put his hands on the counter and leaned in, "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Sam, if anything else happened, you need to tell me," Jack said.

Sam gave him a look, "What would I have left out?"

Jack's patience fell away a little, "Getting attacked walking home?" Sam scoffed and raised an eyebrow. Jack decided going another route, "Look, if you feel embarrassed about being overpowered and assaulted, you have no reason to be."

Sam's eyes narrowed at that. "That is so good to hear, but I wasn't attacked."

Jack's jaw steeled. "Is your blood type O-negative?"

Sam angrily exhales before replying with, "None of your business."

"Sam-" Jack began with a tone of warning."

"Are you going to order anything, because if you aren't, I have to get back to work." Without waiting for a response, giving Jack a blue-gray glare, Sam turns around and walks into the back. Jack watched Sam's back, leaving the detective surprisingly angry. Giving the swinging door to the back an aquamarine glare of his own before leaving.

_What the hell was his problem?_ Jack thought as he went to find Fran.

-----

_What the hell was his problem?_ Sam thought once more as he got ready to leave, his shift having ended at three. This involved being shirtless in the storage room, using one of his female coworker's hairdryer to dry his shirt. He had been doing dishes no more than five minutes ago and was still fuming about his chat with the cocky cop. Rod Quinlan, another one of his coworkers, had picked that moment to goof off and ended up slamming into him. The sink was a deep one, so Sam had barely stopped himself from falling in completely. Though, his whole arms had ended up in the water, drenching the front of his T-shit as well.

"Dude, I'm so sorry!" Rod had been apologizing profusely the whole time he had been drying. Sam had chose to ignore Rod's talking until he was finished drying the shirt. He pulled it on and turned to the sweet muscle head. He looked genuinely worried, so Sam rolled his eyes and felt a smile come to his face.

"Rod, it's fine," he said as he waved his hand, "Really. I just haven't been having the best day."

"So, we're cool?" Rod asked. Sam nodded. Rod broke into a wide grin, shooting his hand up and saying, "Yeah! 'We're Totally Cool Now' five!" Sam hesitated slightly before holding up his own palm. Rod slams their hands together, almost knocking Sam over, and followed it with a snap of the fingers. Sam hung his apron up, watching the owner of Cosi come up to Rod and the two of them giving each other very loud high five's and snapping their fingers in unison. Sam felt his smile come back at the father and son's antics and simply shook his head slightly before leaving.

He made it to the end of the block before spotting none other than Detective Dick from this morning, with an older brunette woman Sam assumed was his partner. Anger flared to life in him as he got closer to them and their police cruiser.

"What do you want?" Sam spits at Jack, though it had less venom than Sam had intended.

"Mr. Dorian, we're going to have to ask you to come with us," the woman states calmly. Sam looks from her to Jack, only to see the smug smirk back on his face.

"I'm guessing I don't have a choice, do I?" Sam asks. Jack's smirk gets a little wider and Sam feels his headache return.

* * *

_**First chapter is done! Hope things weren't too confusing. Now, Rod was a fictional son from Todd's fantasy, but I figured since his standards are low and he's always on the lookout to have him some sex, he was bound to have some kids out there somewhere. Also, I am basing Jack's looks off of Dr. Cox, because red hair and curls just makes more sense than blond hair.**_

_**About the title, if you were wondering: it will be explained, though my explanation kind of comes from a weird place and might be completely wrong because of it.**___

_**All questions, comments and criticism are wanted and appreciated!  
**_


	2. My Strange Clues

_**Second chapter! Big milestone for me, getting this much of any story out of my head and into words.  
**_

_**No beta on this right now, so apologies if it's hard to follow. I wrote this all in one, three hour burst in the middle of the night, but I went back through it to try and make it better. Enjoy!  
**_

* * *

The door to the room Sam occupies opens, having been left alone for about twenty minutes. He had spent the time rhythmically drumming his fingers on the table top. He considered leaving, but had decided to just let whatever was going to happen, happen. Jack enters with a file, takes a seat opposite Sam, and sits a cup of water in front of him. Sam looks from the cup to Jack, simply raising an eyebrow. A muscle in Jack's jaw twitches, but that's the only reaction. The detective flips the file open and leafs through it without a word. When Jack looks up and raises his own eyebrow, Sam realizes he hadn't stopped drumming his fingers.

"So," Sam starts, forcing his hand to be still, "you dragged me down here because...?"

"I just wanted you to see some things. See if they jog your memory," Jack tells him, keeping his voice politely disinterested. Sam fights the urge to roll his eyes and sigh. _Detective Cocky is still on this?_

"These 'things' being related to this person you think attacked me, Detective C-," Sam starts to say, but snaps his mouth closed when he realizes he doesn't know the detective's actual name and almost called him Detective Cocky out loud. "What is your name, by the way?"

Jack looks at Sam briefly before looking back down at the file, replying, "Cox. Detective Jack Cox." Sam barely keeps the laugh/snort down, a indistinct sound making it's way out. _Detective Cocky Cox,_ Sam can't help but think, bringing a small smile to his face.

"Well, Detective Cox, what do you want to show me?" Sam was ready for this to be done so he could go home.

"Just some photos," Jack tells him, looking up to catch the smile on the brunette's face. He goes to move the water, but sees Sam had moved it to the side edge of the table already. "Not thirsty?" he says before laying the pictures in front of Sam. The comment has Sam looking to the right, seeing the cup of water as far away from him as it could get. He's a little confused, as he didn't remember moving it. He blinks a few times; this day really needed to be over.

He glances down at the photos, recognizing the fountain. "I go by this fountain on my walk to work sometimes," he volunteers.

"Why only sometimes?"

"It's only if I work late," Sam explains, "Normally, I take the 5 and then the 17, but if it's late, I'm only able to get on the 17 and end up having to go through the park and walk a few blocks." He looks back down at the picture and notices the water is red. He scoffs; "Are you really insisting I was attacked because there was some blood in the water?"

"Are you O-negative?" Jack counters.

"Yeah, but so are a lot of people," Sam states, feeling annoyance flare once more inside of him. This also made his headache worse. "Some blood doesn't mean someone was attacked."

"Someone reported an assault in progress right at that fountain."

"People report false stuff all the time, or it could have been someone else that was attacked. Did they tell you it was me? Is that how you knew my name?" Sam knows he's being a dick, but he's tired or this day and can't help it. "Only about four or five people know me here and none of them live anywhere near me or the park, so I don't know why you would think it was me."

"I know your name because of your name tag," Jack points out, jabbing his finger in the direction of Sam's chest. Sam feels his face blaze; he forgot he was wearing his Cosi uniform. "There was also an ID left at the scene."

Sam narrows his eyes, trying to bury the embarrassment, "It wasn't mine. I accidentally left it when I moved and haven't gotten my replacement yet."

Jack's face falters a little at that. "We got a general description from it. The ID was old and obviously fake." Jack pulls a bag from the file and tosses it in front of Sam. "Process of elimination brought us to you." Sam looks down at the bag, seeing it is the wallet he thought he had lost earlier.

_-one hand on the back of his neck and the other gripping his hair tightly as he's held under the water, trying his hardest to break free. Flailing, kicking, whipping his arms around. His lungs start to burn, burn, and burn, until it's all he can focus on. Everything else fades, the burning consuming him, until even the burning fades into-_

Sam's gripping the arms of his chair tight, feeling like he was just punched in the gut. "Whoa," is all he says as he takes a few deep breaths. His head is full on throbbing, his thoughts spinning on this new information. _How did I forget I was almost killed?!_ He thinks, rubbing one of his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Sam?" A slight touch to his left shoulder makes Sam jerk his body away. He looks up at Jack, who was leaning over him and staring intently down into Sam's face. Sam breaks eye contact, his eyes darting around for a few moments.

"I...guess I was attacked." Jack's eyebrows shoot up. Sam grits his teeth momentarily,"I just remember getting held under the water, but-" Sam shakes his head, "along with the face in the water-"

"What?" Jack cuts in incredulously. Sam jerks his head to look confusedly at the detective.

"I was doing dishes and-," Sam shakes his head again, holding his hand up in annoyance, "look, I was having a weird morning. I just filed it away as 'fucked-up dream' and forgot about it."

Jack's eyes are boring into him, squinting slightly.

"That's it? Someone tries to kill you, you think it didn't happen, but then remember the attack later, but not how you got home?" His skepticism is clear and Sam's anger pushes everything else away for the moment.

"Yeah, that's it," Sam spits out and rises from his chair, "so I'm going to go." He moves around Jack and to the door.

"Hey-" Jack starts, reaching out to grab Sam's arm. He barely touches the right bicep when Sam jerks it away with a hiss of pain.

"Jesus!" Sam breathes, the intense shot of pain completely unexpected.

"I barely touched you," Jack whips out defensively.

Sam touches his arm lightly with a finger, flinching at the flare of pain. "I know," he tells the detective before carefully pushing up his black sleeve. Ugly purple bruises, four long ones in a row and a small one in front of them, stood out starkly from his pale skin. Sam quickly realizes the bruises are in the form of a hand, like someone had gripped his arm. Hard.

Jack looks at the bewildered Sam with hard disbelief, "How can you not notice you have a huge bruise on your arm?"

Sam takes a moment before answering, anger still pulsing. "You can't." Confusion comes to Jack's face. "They weren't there before I came here. But, they're already black and blue, so they..." Sam trails off. None of this followed. Even if he had somehow not noticed the painful series of bruises, Rod would have said something about it while he was apologizing to him after he had knocked him into the sink, soaking his arms...

"Sam?"

...all the way up to the short sleeve's shoulder.

He lets the fabric fall back down, "I'm leaving now." Sam turns to leave, but Jack hurries to block the door.

"Look, if you remember anything, call me." He pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to Sam.

Sam looks down at the card with Jack's name and number, turning it over in his hands to see a handwritten number on the back. He shoves it in his pocket and Jack moves from in front of the door. He opens it, but pauses as he's leaving to look Jack straight in the eye.

"I want my wallet back when this is all done with." With that, he exits. The door falls close and Jack sighs before turning to the mirror. Fran and a few other cops had been watching the whole thing from the other side of the glass, just as perplexed by the whole thing as Jack.

-----

Hours later, Sam was pacing in his apartment. He was debating on whether to call Jack or not. He had spent the last couple of hours busying himself with cleaning. He had cleaned everything, though that didn't really mean much; the apartment hadn't been very dirty. Sam spent all of his time he wasn't at work on his computer, or watching TV. He couldn't bring himself to do either, so he got to thinking, which led to remembering something.

He probably would have remembered more had his phone not rang right in his hand, startling him. It wasn't his normal ring, but that of a well known tune on the banjo. Sam seriously considers chucking his phone so hard into the floor that it shatters, but answers right before it goes to voice mail instead.

He sighs and says a dull, "Hello?"

"Hey Sammy!"

Sam's face twitches. "Hey Dad." His dad was one of the people he wanted to hear the least from right now.

"Hi Honey!" Sam's free hand curls into a fist as the other voice chimes in.

With annoyance, he replies, "Hi Mom." His mother was the number one person he didn't want to hear from, ever.

"How are things?" his dad asks, the ditsy tone grating on Sam. It was how he always sounded, but it was worst than normal somehow.

"Fine," Sam replies curtly.

"That's good." His dad's happy chirp just made it worse; couldn't they hear he was being a dick to them and hang up? "So, guess where we are right now?" Sam doesn't even try to answer, knowing his dad would tell him, "England! Can you believe it?"

"Sure can," Sam replies, about half a minute away from hanging up himself.

"How's school going?" his mom chimes in again.

"I stopped going four years ago Mom."

"Oh, right," she replies airily

That was all Sam could stand.

"I'm waiting for someone's call, so I gotta get off now," he bites off.

"Right," his dad chirps, "Bye Sammy!"

"Bye." With a beep, he disconnects the call and chucks his phone at the couch, watching it bounce off it and land with a clack on the coffee table. That was more of his parents than he could handle right now. Sam had thought actually living separate from his flaky, oblivious parents would make him less critical of them, but it just made his tolerance of them steadily fall away.

The call had derailed him completely, and he had to really think about what he was doing before they had called. Right; he was debating on whether to call the detective. After a little more thinking, he decided he had to. He just needed to recover a little bit first.

This "recovering" consisted of him sitting on his couch for about half an hour in absolute silence.

-----

Jack was having dinner with his family. His dad Perry, the doctor; his mom Jordan, the accountant; and his sister Jenny, the lawyer. His parents were telling each other about their day in snark-form, as always, and his sister was thinking hard about something. She was rolling her food around in her mouth before swallowing it, something she did whenever she was in contemplative mode. Jack himself was doing the same think; he couldn't stop the incessant tumult of the case in his head. Sam's spotty memory had Jack doubting his credibility. Who just passes off their attempted murder as a bad dream?

He seemed to be having hallucinations too, which made things all the worse.

His phone started to vibrate in his pocket and when both his parents jerked their thumbs behind them, he goes into the other room to answer it.

"Hello?" Jack answers.

"Hey, you said to call if I remembered anything" a voice tumbles out, surprising Jack immensely. _Speak of the devil,_ he can't help but think in agitation.

"Yes, but how did you get this number?" Jack barks into the phone

"This one was written on the back of the card you gave me!" Sam spits back defensively. He sounds off to Jack, who remembers that Sam is a victim. He slaps a hand to his face and runs it down; how did he forget rookie stuff?

"Right, sorry," Jack apologizes, his tone under control. There's a slight silence before Sam replies.

"...oh, right. You're probably eating with your wife or girlfriend or something." The reply was awkwardly spoken.

"No. Normally, it's just me, but my parents insist on me and my sister coming over once a week to have a family meal," Jack replies, sharing a bit of himself to try and make Sam more comfortable.

After a few beats of silence; "Um, I guess I'll call you back tomorrow. You know, so you can put it right in the file or whatever," Sam rushes out.

"Wait," Jack sighs before continuing, "just tell me why you called. You remembered something?"

"Um, yeah," Sam replies, his words hesitant, "I'm sure you already know, but there was a cop like a block up from that fountain. I remember, before I got off the bus, seeing a car across the street with one of those police lights on the dash. Maybe they could give you, like, a suspect list or something."

Jack's mouth pulls down into a frown. "Are you sure Sam?"

"Yeah. It's why I decided to go through the park with no moon out, knowing a cop was close by. A lot of good it did me, huh."

Jack's running this new piece of information through his head. "Thanks for calling Sam."

"Just thought I'd try and help, after I was such a tool earlier. I wasn't having the best day," Jack can feel the awkwardness return, "uh, have fun eating with your family."

"Yeah." Jack hesitates, not sure if he should continue, "Goodnight Sam."

"Night."

Jack flips his phone closed, feeling odd. He returns to the table to find everyone already on dessert.

"That took an awfully long time Jackie," Jenny comments, "Was that your lover?"

Jack narrows his eyes at his sister, "No. Related to a serial killer case."

"The Samaritan?" his dad quips.

"Yep. The only survivor so far, but his memory's a little spotty. Told him to call if he remembered anything."

"So, did he remember something that will help?" his mother asks.

"I'm not sure yet."

Perry and Jordan look at each other before they resume eating their dessert. Jenny watches Jack stuff a piece of pie in his mouth and roll in around before swallowing. Whatever the guy had told him, Jenny could see that it was important to Jack, so she let the fact he had a little more color in his cheeks when he returned slide.

* * *

_**The way things happened were planned out differently in my head. There was also going to be more from Sam's point of view, but I decided to just make an extra, separate chapter. I'll try and flush things out more to compensate.**_

_**Now, to reply to my first review on this story: I'm glad this is intriguing. Sam is a little sore on the whole subject of family. Let's just say he had an unconventional childhood. He clearly knows his dad, but he doesn't know Jack and it will definitely be addressed later on. I just wanna gush about it and go into detail about all the answers, but that would ruin the story.**_

_**As always, all questions, comments, and criticism are wanted and appreciated!  
**_


	3. My Leap of Desperation

_**I'm so sorry about this coming up a lot later than it should have. The last two scene just...would...not...come...out! Plus, my life has been kind of crazy as well, and it's just...everything was just a mess colliding with another mess. Anyways**, **here you are. Hope no one was unbearably waiting for this next bit. Enjoy!**_

* * *

Sam was on his computer, doing a little research. He was looking up information related to memory repression. After he got done talking to Jack, he had went to his hamper and found one of his black Cosi shirts and a pair of khakis he had to wear that were heavy with moisture. This had him on his computer, trying to diagnose himself. He took a break after a while to make himself some dinner, washing the dishes right then. He went back to his computer, adding hallucinations to his search.

Sam knew about repressed memories and the things the mind did to make sure you could function, but he never thought his brain would actually block something out. It was probably the worst thing that had happened to him so far in his life, but it came back less than a day later, so he couldn't have been trying too hard to repress it.

He had put the whole night together at this point. He had gotten out of work around one, having covered for Rod so he could go on a date with some hot thing. He had missed the last 17 for the night and had to take the 5 instead. He could now recall seeing the car with one of those police lights on the dashboard, which is why he had went through the park instead of around it. He had just past by the fountain when someone grabbed him around his middle, gripped a handful of his hair, and pushed him into the water. Then the panic, the struggling, and the stilling had happened and everything had gone dark. He had jerked upright a little while later, coughing and gasping, before he immediately got out of the water and ran the rest of the way to his apartment. He had thrown his clothes into the laundry, dried off, pulled on a dry pair of underwear, and immediately went to sleep.

Sam's finger paused on the mouse pad. There had been that trippy little bit in the middle that hadn't forgotten at all and thought was a dream. He didn't feel his body, somehow looking up at it too. The water had seemed to go on forever, seeing beyond the concrete into an ocean. He had reached up and touched his face, uncertain if it had even been skin he was looking at. Now that he knew he had been attacked, Sam just regarded it as another hallucination from lack of oxygen. The face in the dishwater must have been something leftover from then.

This was all reasonable, but Sam was still looking for some other answer because...well, the hallucinations had seemed so real and vivid; almost too vivid, which was why he had thought it was a dream in the first place. The way it stuck out in his mind just – it didn't stand out like a hallucination seemed it would to Sam. He didn't know how a hallucination would stand out differently, but he just knew it stood out in the wrong way. Or something – he could just be losing his mind. Thus why he was on the computer, trying to find something to explain all of this.

Sam's whole apartment went dark at this moment, his computer shutting off along with everything else. His hands hover over the keyboard in disbelief for a second before he slams his computer close. _Damn battery, _Sam thinks, _Of course this would happen after I have to send the damn thing in to get fixed._ He gets up and looks out the kitchen window to see the pool's lights out too. _Cherry on top of the fucking sundae of a day._ With that, Sam grabs his phone to give him enough light to brush his teeth, sets the alarm on it, and finally goes to sleep.

-----

Jack had gone back to the precinct after dinner, what Sam had said about the police light sticking with him. He was going through patrol logs, hoping to talk to whoever had been patrolling the park late last night. But, it turns out Fran had already thought of that, having made a note in the file, something Jack hadn't noticed until he had all the logs out. _Another rookie move,_ Jack thinks angrily. He throws the logs close, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"The Samaritan still stumping you, Jackie?" Jacobison, another rookie like himself, said with humor. Jack just turned and shot him a look. Jacobison was one of the people who joked about The Samaritan in general. While Jack was in firm belief of a new serial killer, some officers still thought it was simply the media trying to make a story out of some unrelated killings. Jack knew they were loosely connected, but he just had a feeling about this.

"Just going over the patrol logs, looking for some kind of connection," Jack tells him tersely.

Jacobison scoffs at that. "I've seen all the places the supposed Samaritan has struck and nothing really syncs up."

Jack narrows his eyes and actually looks at his fellow rookie, "When did you go scope out all the places The Samaritan's hit?"

"Went by them on patrol with Donald," Jacobison tells him as he fills his cup with coffee. Kevin Donald was another senior detective. He also was not a believer in The Samaritan, like his junior partner. Jack quickly flips through the patrol logs, scanning for Donald's name.

"They were all over the city; why would you be going by them on patrol?"

"It's, like, a rookie exercise or something." Jack gave Jacobison another look, prompting the detective to get defensive. "You know, this newest victim of this Samaritan isn't really helping your case. The guy's obviously on something: not remembering it and having some whacked-out hallucinations. We were watching your interview with Wheeler, and he just didn't seem-"

"You and Donald were there when I talked to Sam?" Jack cuts in, something clicking. Jacobison nods and prepares to continue, but Jack is up and running, throwing on his coat and whipping out his cell. As the elevator doors close, Jacobison feels some worry at seeing Jack's face twisted in panic.

-----

Sam cracks his eyes open as the power comes back on, waking him from his restless sleep. He had apparently left all of his lights on, as light filled his whole apartment. It made the figure that was standing in front of his open window really noticeable. Sam's eyes fly open fully, jerking upright in shock. There was a moment – less than a second – where he just stares at the man and the man stares back, but it passes, and the man comes at him. Sam scurries off the bed, trying to get to the door, but the man's hands clasp around his throat and throw his body into the wall. Sam has a bizarre flash of déjà vu struggling against the strong hands and arms that were choking the life out of him. He hadn't gotten choked before, but it still felt like he had been in this exact situation before. This exact position with this exact person.

Sam smashes his knee into the man's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He gives enough room to let Sam squeeze his knee up to his chest, rabbit kicking the man right in the chest and sending him sprawling over the bed. Sam lands hard on his backside, coughs a few times while leaping to his feet. He sprints out of his room and slams his bedroom door close behind him. He heads straight to the front door, yanking it open, then twisting the doorknob lock before he slams it close behind him. The doorknob was janky and the lock had to be unlocked manually if you wanted to let someone in. It would buy him a few seconds to run, Sam hoping like hell it would be enough. He takes off at full speed to the steps, hearing the door smash against the wall as the man flung it open. Sam looks back and finally sees the man has a gun, which went well with the absolutely insane look in his eyes. He looks towards the steps, seeing someone coming in the gate to the complex. It's Jack, gun drawn! The adrenaline was flooring through his system, which helps Sam come to the terrible truth of the situation.

He's too far away.

Sam was just too far away from Jack for him to be of any use. The crazy man definitely wanted him dead as a doornail and a young detective threatening to shoot wasn't going to stop him from reaching his goal. Sam was going to get shot before Jack had a chance to even try and deter him.

Suddenly, another option makes itself known to Sam, a memory flashing instantly through his head.

It was from about two months ago, when he had first moved to the city. He had just gotten his stuff to the apartment complex and was in the process of bringing it up all the steps to his actual place. It had been a warm day and some kids were playing in the pool. A couple were up at the top of the steps and were preparing to leap off the railing and cannonball into the pool. A woman had hollered a threat at them and they had reluctantly not performed the feat. Sam remembered seeing the distance and concluding that it could be done, though probably not by a child.

Sam gives it no other thought.

He jerks his body up onto the railing and, just like the rabbit kick, he launches himself as far as he can. The fall is gut wrenching, since he couldn't tell if he really was going to hit the water or not. He slams into the water, a fear spiking through his system that wasn't related to the crazy man out for his blood. He went in butt first, knocking against something hard almost as soon as he broke the water's surface. Sam looks up in surprise, somehow already at the bottom of the nine-foot-deep pool. He could see the flash of a gun going off several times. His eyes follow the bullet casings as they float down to him, his air steadily running out. His heart is racing, refusing to slow and pushing the adrenaline further through his system. The casings soon were at eye level. They continue to drop, even as Sam's eyes stopped following them.

Sam was looking at the seven other people who were sitting at the bottom of the pool, curled up in the fetal position and looking right at him. What was most disturbing was that Sam recognizes all of their faces, though he can't say how he knows they were the victims of The Samaritan; all of them now smiling eerily at him. He chooses this moment to push off from the bottom of the pool and surface.

As soon as he gets his head above water, Sam takes a giant breath before looking around. Jack had The Samaritan face down on the ground, his arm bleeding from where one of Jack's bullets had nicked him, Sam wagered. He swims over to the edge of the pool and pulls himself up, running his hand up his face to push his hair out of his eyes. He's panting, the panic subsiding and the adrenaline ebbing away. He looks back over his shoulder into the pool, the seven men still in the same position, their gazes still trained on Sam. Sam feels a shiver run up his spine, making him shake a little.

He tells himself that it's because it's cold.

-----

Jack let the paramedics take the strapped-down Keith Donald into the ambulance, directing some uniforms to ride along to make sure things went alright. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Sam since he had emerged from the pool. Fran was taking Sam's statement, his hair starting to dry and stick out at some odd angles. His eyes dart to Donald, then Jack, before looking back at Fran. It looked like they were finishing, so Jack nods to the officers and the ambulance races off. He walks up to Sam and Fran as she flips her notebook close. She meets him halfway, speaking soft and clear so Sam won't hear.

"Looks like Donald knocked the electricity out and came into the apartment through the window. They got the power back on sooner than he anticipated and it woke Sam up. They struggled and Sam got away and ran before-"

"Jumping into the pool," Jack finished.

"Sam says it was the only option he had. Says you weren't close enough to do any good." Jack feels a flare of guilt at that and looks to Sam. He's staring at the pool, looking like he's about to be ill. Jack turns back to Fran, "Donald was in the room. Turns out he had taken Jacobison out to all The Samaritan's attack spots before they had happened. Checked with his wife; he told her he was out with the guys and he didn't come back until around two in the morning. She says it's happened at least once a week for a couple months."

"Then there could be more victims than we know about," Jack replies. His gaze flicks to Sam once more. "He alright?"

Fran gives him a look, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "Maybe you should go ask him. I don't have the same...rapport with him that you do." With that, she walked off to talk to the other uniforms. Jack looks after he for a while, not liking what she seemed to be vaguely implying. He looks back to Sam, let's out a little sigh, and finally walks over.

"Hey," Jack greets simply, taking a seat in the pool chair beside Sam.

"Hey," Sam replies, taking his eyes off the pool and giving Jack a slight smile, "Thanks for showing up. You were just barely in time."

Jack chuckles, "Gee, thanks."

"I meant it positively."

"That's a first from you," Jack shoots back, flashing Sam a grin. He pushes his wet bangs out of his eyes in time for Jack to see them rolled.

"Seriously though," Sam starts, turning to face Jack, "thank you for saving my life."

"Just part of the job," Jack replies, trying to be humble and failing.

"I was looking for 'you're welcome' but that'll do," Sam mutters. Jack snorts lightly before clapping his hands on his knees and standing.

"Yeah. Well, another ambulance for you should be here in-" Jack starts before Sam whips his hand up.

"Whoa, hold on! I don't need an ambulance. I'm fine," Sam says quickly.

"You were attacked, you need to go to the hospital," Jack starts, looming over the sitting,wet Sam.

"I might be a little bruised in the morning. It certainly doesn't warrant a hospital visit, an ambulance, or all the money both of those will cost me," Sam replies, shooting up onto his feet. The towel slips off his shoulders with the movement.

"The ambulance is already on it's way."

"Then just send it back," Sam says, turning towards the stairs, "I'm fine and I don't really have time for a hospital stay, since I have work tomorrow."

"Look," Jack starts, following Sam up the stairs, "You were just attacked by a serial killer, shot at, and leaped off a railing into a pool. That's not even concerning the emotional damage from being violently assaulted twice within twenty-four hours by a cop who knows how not to leave a mark. Plus, you shouldn't be going into work after all of this anyways-"

"Lovely recap, though unneeded, since I was there for all of it," Sam cuts Jack off with, not stopping or slowing. "I know my body and I am fine

"You can't know that. You're not a doctor," Jack counters.

"You're not a doctor, either," Sam counters right back without stopping. It was pissing Jack off immensely.

"Just take the damn ambulance and go to the hospital, Carol."

That stops both of them. Sam whips around in confusion to see the look of pure mortification on Jack's face. There's an awkward pause where the confusion on Sam's face deepens as Jack's face gets more and more red.

"...I think we both just need some sleep, so...goodnight, then," Sam throws out before turning his back and making the rest of the way to his apartment, looking back over his shoulder a few times to give Jack looks. Jack just looks straight ahead, waiting until Sam is completely out of sight before he scrubs both his hands down his face in hopes of wiping the humiliation off of it. Feeling no better and probably looking worse, Jack descends the stairs and goes to his car, the same thought repeat over and over in his head: _Where the _fuck_ had Carol come from?_

-----

It's a little after midnight when Sam finally settles into bed. In his head, Sam can admit that Jack was probably right about going to the hospital. Physically, he's sure it'll be nothing more than some soreness around his throat and maybe a bruise on his back. Psychologically...probably not so fine. He doesn't feel out of sorts, which is bad after the two attempted murders in a little less than a day. But, if he's going to go see a shrink, then everything will come out, and Sam definitely isn't ready to face the strangeness in the pool. Even if it did save his life.

Sam shakes his head and wraps his blanket tight around himself, pushing all out of his mind. He had a deeply unsettling feeling that the strangeness wasn't going away. That the strangeness wasn't as strange as it should be. Like, maybe...this strangeness had happened before. Lucky for Sam, there really wasn't anything he could do about it. It meant that while it was depressing, it was also accompanied by resignation. This allowed him to push it away from himself for now and get some much needed rest. It was something he did a lot when he was a kid. Definitely too many times to be anyplace close to normal.

There was nothing he could do about that, either.

* * *

_**Umm...anyone actually know any of the kids' birthdays? I'm trying to keep them relatively the same age gaps as in the show. Oh, and expect more characters to be showing up soon.**_

**_All questions, comments, and criticism is wanted and appreciated!_  
**


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